


The Princess & her Dragon

by ariannemartell



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: F/M, a song of ice and fire - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-09-04
Updated: 2014-09-08
Packaged: 2018-02-16 03:02:27
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,008
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2253423
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ariannemartell/pseuds/ariannemartell
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Where Doran manages to send Arianne to meet Viserys her betrothed, to form and alliance forged by marriage. ASOIAF AU.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. First Meeting

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer;; I own nothing, the characters or locations are not mine, they all belong to GRRM.
> 
> Also English isn’t my mother tongue, so bear with me please.
> 
> Story is inspired by;;
> 
> “The prince fought valiantly.  
> He slayed the dragon.  
> The princess cried for days.  
> She loved that dragon.”  
> — Unknown

  **Wow okay new story, obviously this is a major AU, and based in a verse where Arianne had been sent to Tyrosh to meet Viserys. Only I am not going by her serving as a cupbearer, as Doran had planned to go by! I am planning this verse and future events, but I tried this chapter out and so far I am excited in all honesty!**

**Also this is right after Willem Darry had died; meaning that Viserys has not sold his mother’s belongings, and has not roamed the streets in fear, so he won’t be maddened by his wrath as he is in canon. Nor does he abuse Dany. He will still be bitter and angry after what happened to him, but obviously not at such a thorough level. Since in canon Dany mentions that it was selling his mother’s crown that made his smile die out.**

**If there are any betas who wish to help me please do message me !!!**

**King Viserys Targaryen III; Tyrosh, 291 AL**

_Five years._ They had decided to tell him this after five dreadful years of what, living in exile, feeling as if he had already been abandoned by everyone. It was all he had even dreamt of since he and his sister were forced into exile.

Before his passing, Ser Willem had insisted that it was much better that he refrained from speaking of the engagement until Prince Doran made the decision to contact him. He supposed that Darry had predicted that Viserys would have hopped on the first passage to Sunspear, as soon as he knew that he had a Dornish army waiting to fight for his cause, as well as a Dornish princess for his queen.

And in truth, it was exactly what he would have done if he knew.  So perhaps it was for the very best, but he would never admit that out loud to anyone. His pride would not allow it. And his pride was all he had left to him save for his baby sister, Daenerys.

Or so he thought until Prince Doran sought to contact him.

It would be like Rhaegar and Elia come again. Only Viserys wouldn’t forsake his kingdom and risk his birth right for some other woman. Next to nothing he knew of this Arianne… but never would he risk going into exile, even if he would grow hate her.

He remembered the look on Elia’s face when the wolf bitch had been crowned with that blue crown of roses, and he would never bring such pain and shame on his wife, no matter what.

Those sad eyes haunted him.

Going to Dorne would be risky, to both Viserys and the Martells. Instead he was to meet his promised in Tyrosh, at the Archon’s manse. He was nearly a man of six and ten, almost of age to be wed, whilst the Martell girl was a year younger than him.

“Vissie, does this look nice?” He heard a squeaky pipe behind him, as soft pattering of feet echoed the long hallway. Turning around he saw his little sister, in orange silks, a gift from the Martells

Seeing his own girl-child of a sister wearing the Martell’s gift could do naught else but to please them.

The green-haired archon, with his bulging belly took the last Targaryens to the dining hall for breakfast.  Daenerys indulged in her breakfast, as a hungry child might have. Indeed it was fortunate. That she finally back to her cheery sweet self, and seemed to have almost recovered from Ser Willem’s death.  

But it was even easier for Viserys; he was so used to it by now.

He couldn’t stomach too much breakfast. For the rightful heir was elated but nervous. Anxious but excited. Hopeful but frightened.

It was easier when they stepped outside where he was to greet his promised princess. The Tyroshi air was cool, as the clouds were a stormy grey, showcasing the upcoming rain which would likely occur later.

It wasn’t long before he noticed about a small group of about ten people striding towards them from a distance. There were no orange banners with the famous sun and spear of Dorne, and from what he would see each person had been fully concerned with their dark cloaks.

A tall olive-skinned man was the first to hop off his steed, greeting the archon as a stable boy attended to his horse. Viserys desperately tried to search for his bride-to-be, and almost failed to notice that the man, who had jumped off his horse, was a man he had known from long before.

Prince Oberyn…

Viserys’s face was still, though his pale lilac eyes were in shock. So strange it was, to see a figure from his past life. The Red Viper may not have been a prominent person in his childhood, but the very sight of him was enough to make Viserys feel nostalgic all the same.  

Nostalgic and hopeful.

Prince Oberyn walked to a brown mare, and helped down a small person from their own horse. The very person took their hood down, revealing her pretty face, thick curls and dark eyes.

It was her… he could tell.

“My king, it is an honour that we meet again, now let me introduce you to my niece and your own betrothed…”

At least she was lovely to look upon; in fact his eyes were practically glued to her.

Three days later…

Infuriating and insufferable, she was, the woman to be his queen. Viserys was no fool, he knew that the women of Dorne were not like other Westerosi ladies. They were freer more outspoken. Elia had been sweet and frail, but witty and strong. He had liked that, he had expected that of Arianne too.

Arianne had her late aunt’s colouring, wit, large eyes and comely heart shaped face. But that is where it all ended.

 Where Elia was a slender beauty, Arianne was robust already pertaining womanly curves most women at the age of twenty could only dream of acquiring. Curves leaving men speechless, whenever she would appear.

While Elia had a sweet wit, Arianne enjoyed talking back to him, challenging him.

While Elia beautiful and dainty, Arianne was striking and alluring.

Nothing he said could ever make that whelp shut up. Nothing, even though she had awoken the dragon countless of times.

It wasn’t that she humiliated him by any means, but she challenged him in the worst and best ways. He couldn’t stand her presence.

Yet she was all he ever thought about. Bloody wench. Somehow she was deeply rooted in his every thought. It was as he had been struck by her poison, she was the viper’s niece after all. It was after dinner, and he had confined himself inside his chambers, announcing that he wasn’t feeling very well.

He wasn’t in truth. Viserys was usually one who could control himself in the company of others, never would he allow his feelings to overcome himself. He was a king, and he would push these feeling aside if he must. It was his duty.

He wasn’t Rhaegar who had risked everything, all for that wolf bitch.

But sometimes it got too much; reminders of his mother broke him down. His sweet queen mother the one thing he would have given anything to have back.

His birth right, his loyalists, the new clothes and jewels and other fineries the Martells had gifted him with ever so generously.

 In truth as horrid as it was, he would have given sweet little Dany to the Stranger if it meant he could feel the comfort of his mother’s sweet embrace again.

The thought made him sick, but it was the horrid truth. And his guilt worsened every time he would remember his lady mother’s last words before she passed.

“My boy… my sweet brave boy, you must be brave, for you and your sister.  Protect her at all costs, I beg of you to protect her and to love her… please my boy, she needs you.”

He had sworn to protect Daenerys with every fibre of his being, yet he would have given her up to have his own mother back. Because deep inside he blamed his innocent sweet little sister for his mother’s death.

It was wrong; it made him hate himself more than he already did.

With time it had indeed gotten easier to black out these feelings, most days he was fine, most days he would find plenty of things to distract himself with, dreams of the keep, of the throne, of home.

But there were other days that were a lot more difficult, other days which would break him.

So he let him himself do something he hadn’t permitted himself to do for years.

He cried.

**Princess Arianne Nymeros Martell; Tyrosh, 291 AL**

“Nuncle, he’s too… grumpy, why can’t he cheer up?”

Arianne had entered the fine chambers which had been assigned to her uncle, curling herself down on the divan as her head started to spin from the amount of wine she had been drinking during dinner.

Her uncle handed her a chalice which he had filled with water, she grabbed the cup sitting up, taking a sip. The response she from him, regarding her question was his dark brow rising.

“You know for being Doran’s daughter you aren’t very observant, I mean… is not obvious?”

Her nose crinkled as she shook her head. “No it is not,” she mumbled, “now stop lecturing me, and tell me why my dearest betrothed can’t bring himself to ever smile at me.”

The boy was a stranger to her, but she wished to get on his good side, so that their marriage would be a pleasant one.

“Dearest niece, think of what happened during the rebellion, think of how this has affected the poor boy, think of how he cannot go home. The gods know how lonely he must be. Perhaps he needs a friend and who better than his queen to heal him?”  

**King Viserys Targaryen III; Tyrosh, 291 AL**

“Your grace!”

Couldn’t she knock? Why wouldn’t she knock? Was this how she would act at all times, would she awaken the dragon at all costs?

He wanted to scold her; he truly did want to tell the girl off. But instead he only found himself gazing at her pretty smiling mouth which faltered slightly now.

“Would my king perhaps do me the honour of accompanying me for a walk? It is ever so lovely tonight.”

A part of him wanted to say no, to ask her to leave him be for the night, to bury himself under his own blankets, and drown himself in his sorrow. But somehow he only found himself nodding, and slightly smiling at her even.

He even stopped thinking of his mother, as she smiled at him again. He found that he liked her pretty smile; he could tell that it was genuine, and being that it was meant for him made it all the more sweet.

“But of course.” He said in a voice as courteous as he could muster, whilst offering her his own arm, which she immediately accepted to his pleasure.

Once they stepped out of his chambers, into the gardens she started to chat away, talking at an absolute nonstop pace. Something he had noticed her doing often, though for the first time he had found this trait to be endearing rather than infuriating.

“I’m sorry, your grace… I talk too much,” the Dornish princess mumbled in embarrassment, almost as if she had read his mind, “why do you not tell me about yourself, I feel as if I know nothing about you.”

About himself? What could he say? What could he tell her, the question itself made him wish to lock himself up in his room once more. He was nothing, nothing but a lonely boy filled with anger and anguish. There was nothing more to him than his own bitter loneliness.

No one had wanted to know anything about him, so it was not as if he knew what to say at all.

“Or if you don’t wish to, you don’t have to!” She piped up quickly, and grabbing his hand, a gesture catching him off guard.

He only looked at her. She may have been a ferocious little thing, but he could see that deep inside that his Dornish bride had a soft kind heart.

Just like Elia…

Just like his mother…

His pursed lips curled into a smile once more, as he only squeezed her dainty hand.

“Over time you will know, but this evening is pleasant and lovely, I do not wish to spoil it by such tales, let me forget and enjoy your sweet smile instead.”


	2. Easing The Pain

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Okay so I finally found the time where I am not distracted by uni parties, coursework and seminars! But yes here is part two for you all :3 do enjoy! Please so comment feedback; both negative and positive, are indeed a huge welcome.   
> Disclaimer;; I own nothing, the characters or locations are not mine, they all belong to GRRM.  
> Also English isn’t my mother tongue, so bear with me please, and if there are any betas who wish to help me please to message me !!!

_Heat_ , sweltering ruddy heat. T’was what the rightful king had to endure. How preposterous! How was he supposed to discuss battle tactics when overcome with this tedious scorching climate? What was worse was that he was stuck, and expressly forbidden to leave the Water Gardens. In truth the exiled monarch was in no mood to suffer the desert and walk through the dusky village, but still it was the practicality of not being allowed to leave.

It had been about three years ago since he had met the Dornish party in Tyrosh, they had only stayed for a moon before departing; as it would not have been safe for Oberyn and Arianne to linger in Essos for too long.

The lions had spies _everywhere_.

It had then been decided that Viserys and Daenerys would stay with a Pentoshi merchant named Illyrio Mopatis until he was eighteen, the age he was apparently to wed his Dornish bride. At first he was relieved that he and his sister were not to be kicked out on the streets, he doubted that he would fare well at all.

Though he didn’t want to wait.

The cheesemonger was a cheery man, who tended to praise Viserys far too much to his own liking. He was kind enough to let them stay in his manse for the long amount of time, but somehow he didn’t trust him at all, at least not how he trusted Oberyn.

 The Red Viper’s words weren’t flavoured with flowered niceties, as Illyrio’s was. But he told Viserys the truth at least, even though he did not handle the truth too well, it got easier with time.  

A good king had to endure. That was what Oberyn told him, and Oberyn was many things, but a liar was far from it. He knew Oberyn was using Viserys for his own vengeance, but at least he didn’t do so by concocting lies to make him feel better and to win his liking.

But the stay had gone past quickly, and Viserys found that he was ready. Ready for his throne, ready for his bride, read to go **_home._**

Only Dorne wasn’t home, Dorne was unknown to him. But they wouldn’t stay for too long… or so he hoped. But it would do for the meantime he supposed…. Daenerys loved it; she loved the heat, and had befriended the young fiery Elia Sand, baseborn daughter of Oberyn.

Perhaps it was the sweltering high temperature meddling with his head, but for the first time ever, he felt as if his sister’s happiness was enough to make him smile.

He blamed her less and less for his own agony.

“Vissie, look what Arianne gifted me for my tenth nameday.” He heard his sister squeak up, as soft pattering of footsteps echoed inside of his chambers. She was grinning, and swirling around in an ostentatious gown of expensive royal purple and gold silks, which brought out the silver tones in her hair and the purple in her bright violet hues.

Even at a young age, his own sister was quite the beauty, and would likely grow even lovelier with age. It would not be a difficulty in finding a suitable match for her at all when the time came for it.

 “Do you like it? I think I shall wear it when you finally wed your bride,” Dany giggled, “Arianne says that it looks nice with my—“

“Daenerys! Don’t you dare speak of her with such familiarity!” He exclaimed rather loudly, in as booming of a voice he could muster.

His temper had mellowed, and Dany had indeed awoken the dragon on fewer occasions than usual, but it seemed that his whelp of a sister had yet to grow out of her thoughtless pattern of forgetting herself.

“She is soon to be the queen, and you will address her as such! Do you hear me?”

Still, he only yelled at her, he had never raised a hand on her. He never would, not after when he saw his own lady mother endure from his father’s abusive nature. Never would Viserys harm his baby sister, not whilst he had his wits about.

“But she said I could call her Arianne… or _Ari_.” She wasn’t even daunted by the loud tone of his voice it seemed, and her smile was yet plastered onto her pretty face. “She said we are to be sisters… and family. Isn’t that nice Viserys? We finally have a family again, a big one too!”

He didn’t notice that his sister was no longer silenced down from his audible threats, likely due to her influence of the Dornish. Nor did he realise that he held little care of scaring her or putting her in her place as he used to.

All he could think of was her last words… a family yes.

Finally.

**Princess Daenerys Targaryen II; Water Gardens, 294 AL**

_He fancied her_ , she knew he did. There was no one who she knew better, than she knew than her own big brother, and there was no one who knew him better than she did.

Viserys was her mother, father, friend, brother, maester, nurse in one. He had been there ever since her birth, so it was practically expected of her to know him so well.

And know him she indeed did, enough to notice how his temper flared by her speaking of Princess Arianne with such familiarity, while his cheek flushed into a stranger scarlet hue, a hue ever so unfamiliar onto his pale skin.  

It was a good thing though; he deserved this, after all he had to endure Viserys deserved something to make him happy, something to ease his pain.

Yes he was tempestuous; yes his scolding had grown scarier over time, as they grew up. Well that was until they had met the Martells.

Dany wasn’t so certain what it was, but it seemed that Viserys had gotten some hope, in that somebody finally believed him, which had resulted in his smiles growing more frequent and his temper easing drastically.

Everything had finally come to its place, while Viserys was seemed to be less… burdened, Daenerys had finally come out of her shell, and she felt free for one.

Finally he could be happy, he deserved it. They both did really.

**Prince Oberyn Nymeros Martell; Water Gardens, 294 AL**

_He’s not Rhaegar. He’s not Rhaegar._

He may have had his elder brother’s looks and colouring, but he wasn’t Rhaegar. They weren’t even alike.

Rhaegar was a melancholic prince, with deep dark eyes which made ladies swoon, and Oberyn snort. Viserys was an eager young boy, with pale lilac hues in which attained a look of naivety and a gaze of one who had seen too much, too soon, both in one.

Rhaegar was cold and bookish, Viserys was tempestuous, shrewd and charismatic.

Rhaegar had the audacity to treat Elia as if _she_ were the one who was fortunate to be his lady wife; Viserys looked at Arianne as if she were the maiden reborn and Shiera Seastar in one.

Rhaegar was so miserable and unreasonable, Viserys wanted to learn, **Viserys listened.**

_He isn’t his brother, he isn’t his brother. He is nothing like him, he suffered because of his brother’s stupidity, and he won’t ever repeat those mistakes._

**King Viserys Targaryen III; Water Gardens, 294 AL**

There she was, once more. Arianne. His Arianne, soon enough hopefully. She was even more beautiful than he remembered with her unruly thick curls in an elaborate hair style done up with braids, hair pins and other feminine complications Viserys understood very little of.

He felt the sudden urge to let her thick hair flow free of its strains, so he could run his lithe fingers through it, and inhale the sweet smell. Last time she smelt of lavender and jasmine, he wondered whether she still smelt the same.

So ridiculous he was! Letting his mind flow so recklessly, when he was to prove himself to these people. But at least it was his _wife to be_ he was so enamoured by, and not another woman.

If only his brother had been so captured by sweet Princess Elia.

He knew it would not do for the rightful king to act like a child caught deep in affections, and soon he would learn, sooner he would have his bride by his side and feel no need at all to only look and daydream about her.

For now he would let himself day dream… for now he felt like he needed it, it was a nice distraction. Whenever thing were much too difficult, he would think of her, and that very night three years ago in Tyrosh, resulting in that deep disturbing feeling his gut not getting to him as much at all.

Already she was his s _alvation_ , thought he didn’t dare admit that to himself even. Not yet at least.

**King Viserys Targaryen III; Water Gardens, three years ago…**

_“Over time you will know, but this evening is pleasant and lovely, I do not wish to spoil it by such tales, let me forget and enjoy your sweet smile instead.”_

_She squeezed his hand now, and that oh so sweet smile of her had yet to falter from that comely face of hers. His eyes were on her rosy lips, whilst her gaze where plastered on his eyes._

_“May I kiss you, my king?”_

_He felt completely dumbstruck. Was this a game? Was this a trick? How could she know, was she trying to be kind? Or was she trying to fool him for her own gain? Or did she want to kiss him for…? No of course she didn’t! No one wanted him; he was nothing, but a crown to her._

_“Why?” He asked, letting go of her hands, and trying to mould his face into the most stoic expression he could assemble._

_“Because… I want to make it better.” She said with her dark brows furrowed, and her voice meeker than he had ever witnessed it to be._

_“I don’t need your pity; I do not need you to feel sorry for me.” A lie and a truthful statement in one, he hated pity, but he did want someone to feel sorry for him, as pathetic as it sounded._

_“No I do not pity you; I just want to see you smile again.” She grinned, cupping his face, and pressing her lips against his._

_At first it was a gentle pucker, but as soon as Viserys responded to her soft his, he deepened it, burying his hands inside her soft hair. She had him captured right then, she left him wanting more, it was almost as if she had bound him by a strange spell performed by that kiss._

_Nothing had made him relax so much._

_When Arianne’s lips detached from his, likely for her to regain her breath, he felt some strange feeling of ease. As if it was all better again, even for a little while, for now he forgot, now he was just a young boy in his adolescence, giving the pretty princess a loopy grin._

_Just as she wanted, he smiled at her again, and she kissed him one more. Making him feel more wanted than ever._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Once again! If anyone is up to being a beta I could totally use it, it would indeed be super helpful c:


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